How Could an Angel Break my Heart?
by madasmonty
Summary: It's there. Always there. The drumming. Harold Saxon is angry with the world so he takes it out on his wife. FINALLY COMPLETED
1. Can't you hear it?

Can't you hear it?

He was angry that night. So he took it out on me.

Harry came storming in, a whirl of fury and bitterness. He smashed open the door and stood in the middle of the bedroom. His domain. He panted slightly and had a pained expression, as if he had some inner battle going on. I knew it was best to keep my head down and shut up when he was like this. The slightest thing I did would set him into frenzy. Something shut off inside me when I saw him like this, he wasn't my Harry anymore and I couldn't reach him. It was like he was on a shrinking island and the tide was coming in to wash away her husband and replace him with a dark sea of the Master. He was unpredictable when he was in this state and I knew it was all I could do to wait it out until he became Harry again. It was like an oncoming storm that overtook him and made his eyes cloud with unbidden anger and resentment. His fists were strong and his voice was jeering when he was the Master. He wasn't the man I loved currently. A twisted form of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

"Can't you hear it, Lucy?" He asked suddenly. "That frickin' noise?"  
I had no idea what he was talking about but thought it best not to say. I shook my head slowly and cautiously. This angered him further.

"It's there always! That drumming. It never, never, stops. Never. Not even for a second." With surprising agility he leapt across the room and grabbed my hair hard and yanked me onto the floor. He pulled my head back to meet his eyes and yelled into my face:  
"Listen!" There is only a certain amount of time that I could stay in that painful position looking into the emotionless eyes of my lover and I exceeded the time and therefore had to speak.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I so sorry but I don't hear it. It's just you." A sob rose in my throat at the sight of him deflate. All the childish energy and glee and fury that had been there seemed to seep out with a despairing look. Out of the blue he shook me hard by the hair. I let out a little squeak of pain and shock. "Please, Harry, you're hurting me." I gasped as my eyes watered.

"You think it doesn't hurt ME?" He cried with frustration as he pulled at my scalp. "You think this awful rhythm that's banging in every cell of my being doesn't cause ME pain? It does! Every waking minute of every hour of every day! I can't live with it! Not anymore!" I realised he was crying. His innocent and glittering tears fell onto me like raindrops. As quickly as it had come the sobs stopped, as if he feared to show sorrow. It was a weakness in his eyes and he wouldn't -couldn't- allow himself to be weak. So as to repay for the raw emotion he had shown me he banged my head against the wall. Again and again and again. He was smashing the four-beat tune that only he could hear into my skull.

My world exploded in utter pain and confusion. The plaster cracked around me with the force of the hit and I was totally disorientated. Everything seemed to be spinning and I felt sick. It took a few seconds for me to realise that he had let me go and I had fallen to the floor in a pathetic heap. I didn't want to live anymore. It was too much. Just too much.

The door slamming signalled that he had stormed out. I wasn't me but I was totally detached from myself. It hurt too much to be me. The betrayal and hatred and pain. I didn't know when he would return but I wouldn't be here. I would have flown into some ethereal Otherworld where I was free.

Yeah, right. If only.


	2. An Icy Patch

An Icy Patch

I sat on the desk and tried hard not to swing my legs childishly. I idly looked around the room, trying to distract myself from the throbbing pain in my cheek. It beat in time with the erratic beat of my heart. After last night I could hear the drums that haunted my husband. The pounded in my blood as it boiled with hatred and love for him.

I didn't mind these check-ups with Dr McInulty. She was nice and gentle and didn't ask any awkward questions as to how I got this bruise or that cut or why my eyes were so red. I hoped that her hawk eyes would graciously skim the massive grey-black bruise on my forehead that I'd pathetically tried to hide with my bouncy blonde hair.

The creak of a door and clicking of high heels signalled Dr McInulty's arrival into the room. I looked up nervously as she gave me a glowing smile. That made me feel good: I hadn't been smiled at in a while. Of course Harry never smiled at me and the servants he had milling around were too afraid to even look at me. Dr McInulty was nice but I knew that if ever there was a major issue she would most likely tell my husband.

She silently bent down and took out her torch and flashed it in my eyes, leaving blobs in front of my vision and my retinas hurting with the bright light. She wrote something on her clipboard and looked up at me in a cautious way. She mutely walked over to the sink and rinsed a sponge under the tap. She turned around and slowly came back over to me. Oh so gently she pulled back my hair over the bruise and softly dabbed it with the cool sponge. The wash of cold water was such a relief and some of the pain subsided. But it didn't wash away the pain in my heart. I knew she'd have to ask where it came from.

"Lucy," She began, "I don't know if it escaped your notice but you have a whacking great bruise on your head." She stared deep into my eyes and seriously spoke, "Where did it come from?"  
I was afraid now. I couldn't tell her, no matter how much I wanted to, where it came from. It was an unspoken law of mine to never tell anyone what my husband did to me.

"I...I slipped on an icy patch." I whispered,

"You have a _massive bruise all over the side of your forehead_." Dr McInulty said with obvious pronunciation on the fact it was a big bruise.

"It was a large icy patch." I repeated, stubbornly.

Dr McInulty sighed and said in a soothing voice. "These things are better talked about than left alone." I remained silent. "It won't do to bottle it up inside."  
I looked straight at her kind and worried face. She genuinely cared for me and that bought a lump to my throat. Finally someone to talk to! Someone I could spill all the pain and hurt and upset Harry had caused onto!  
Someone he could hurt if they found out. He didn't want anyone knowing. I couldn't tell her.

"It's nothing," I said quietly, sadness entwined in the words, "Leave it."

Dr McInulty let out another despairing sigh and stood up to go as she spun on her heel towards the door she momentarily turned back and said: "Don't 'fall' on anymore 'ice', OK?" Then she left me alone with my dark thoughts.


	3. No More

No More

The night before I killed him he was worse than usual. The most awful thing was that he started off nice...

The door was quietly opened, as if the person entering didn't want to disturb anyone by coming in. I suspected it to be some timid, shaking, servant and had a cutting comment poised to throw at them. I'd had a hard day and was willing to take it out on the first person I could. Utter shock washed over me when I saw it was Harry. He gave me a grin as if he understood my surprise at the fact he hadn't strode in at 100 miles an hour. Something was amiss. He wanted to play a different game tonight.

"I love you Lucy," He said in a husky voice. Every step he took closer to me was veiled with meaning and lust. Despite my surprise, I was disgusted at myself and reluctant to admit that my heart beat fast as I saw him looking so longingly at me. I wanted to pour my soul into his and become lost in his deep gaze. I wanted to hold him and never let go.

I wasn't sure who kissed who but soon we were clinging one another in an innocent show of affection and I felt my heart leap up in happiness and content. Suddenly the kiss developed into a wild grope and Harry gripped me hard, digging his nails in and leaving little tingles of pain on her arms. Lucy tried to pull away but that only seemed to excite him more and he tugged at her dress straps and pulled away from the kiss momentarily, though never relinquishing his grip on her arms, and gave her a lewd and eager smile.

I took this short break to beg. "Please, Harry. I'm tired and just want to be alone. Can't you grant me that one wish? Please..." I stared into his eyes, in search desperately for the man I loved. He wasn't there. I was seeing the merciless eyes of the Master.  
A lot of noise was emitted from their room but none of the servants came to help. They thought the occupants would want to be left alone.

When Harry left about half an hour later with a dishevelled black jacket on he looked mightily pleased with himself. He strode down the hall with energetic vigour and a large smile plastered on his face. He had done very well indeed.

The same could not be said for his wife. I was lying on the bed in a crumpled heap. I was aching all over and her bones were too heavy. My eyes were red from tears. When had I started crying? How did my clothes end up everywhere?

In that second I made a choice. A heart-wrenching decision. If the chance arose I would have to kill Harry. My eyes caught sight of the diamond chess board Harry had bought on a whim. I couldn't even play chess. It was a stupid game of tactics, which I didn't have much of.

I picked up a shining glittering chess piece randomly, not really recording what I was doing. It was a pawn. With a sudden burst of anger and power I threw it against the wall and it shattered. As soon as the anger had come it evaporated. I sunk down the wall and sat there in silence. My mind was made up.

I would not be a pawn any more.

THE END


End file.
